Chrome icon
Chrome icon
Chrome icon

You don't know I've got a fast love.
She's got a V12.
Wire wheels complete her beauty shell,
a holy artwork.

Gasoline flavour is included on a trip.
Power bulge on top does stamp the bonnet's presence.
Holding firm the steering wheel and adhere the facia panel.
'Cos to guide her requires truth.
She's surely a heritage wain.

Throttle kick calls forth this crow-voiced beast,
a toy for men's joy.
She is so amazingly fair,
Let's all my blood freeze.

Though she is a chaste mum,
They call her hijackin' snake.
She ravishes folk on the street,
A graceful shiny exhaust machine
With rolling iconic haunches.

Thunder sheet, a morphine whip snap
Into your frail face.
Wasting witch, beyond belief's her
Tremendous gas thirst.

White smoke balloons when I rouse her roaring scream.
But I don't look back, leave evil spirits behind.
Don't care 'bout her reputation, 'cos you can't rely on pundits.
I do rather believe fools,
'Cos their world is gentle, not rude.

Chrome icon, she's not a weary prong,
This snappy beldam.
Rattlesnake, she is vibrating.
Your buttocks feel numb.
Gleamy red, a drop-dead gorgeous whore,
Dint style attraction.

Chrome icon
Chrome icon